What Makes You Tick?
by L'ange de Tenebre
Summary: What if Candice pursued Sylar? Would he be tempted to steal her ability or could he resist the urge? Mindless fluff :P
1. My Name is Gabriel

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own "Heroes", Sylar, or any of the other characters, actors/actresses, and/or other random celebrity bloggers mentioned in this fic. Thank you. **

**A/N: Ok, just a little idea a co-worker and I had joked about and the fic developed in conversation with bratmerrill16. We lol'd a lot and I hope you will too :) R&R, please! **

**Editted A/N: Ok, I know I said it was a one-shot, but I've changed my mind. Oh, and I fixed it to turn "Candace" into "Candice" because I realized I'd been spelling it wrong :S**

**"What Makes You Tick?**

**(An Unusual Profiling of Gabriel Sylar)"**

**A "Heroes" Fic by L'Ange de Vrai**

"I recognize you from somewhere," the brunette girl at the bar said to the man sitting next to her. "I mean, you look _really_ familiar..."

He laughed lightly before answering, "I must have one of those faces."

She sat back and examined him over her martini glass. "No, you don't, Sylar."

He furrowed his bushy eyebrows at her. "Sylar? Sorry, my name is Gabriel."

"I'm Candice, Candice Wilmer." she replied, shaking his hand. "Wanna go back to my place? Or yours?"

Now, there was a time when he would have considered more than the obvious option - He knew her name from Suresh's list, knew that she had an ability, but repressed the urge to slice her skull open right then and there. He was actually considering leading her back to his place, and _not_ to kill her...

"Well? What's it gonna be?" she asked, temptation lacing her voice.

"My place."

"Did mommy decorate for you?" Candice asked as she stepped into the apartment.

Sylar turned around to retort but was taken aback by what he saw - The plastic covered furniture had been replaced by sleek leather sofas, there was a flat screen TV on the wall, and the books that littered the shelves all around the house had been replaced by stereos, DVDs, and memorabilia alike.

"That's very interesting," he mused. "I'd love to see how that works, but, well, I've turned over a new leaf."

Candice glared at him, a smile forming at the corners of her lips. "You're not even tempted?"

He laughed. "I'm tempted, all right, just not enough to steal your powers. Besides, I happen to like my apartment just as it is."

"And _that_ is why you never get laid," she stated resolutely. "Your apartment kills it for you."

By this time, Sylar was standing face to face with her. He shouldn't take this, not from her, not in his own home... But for some odd reason he did. He had taken all of his old things out of storage when he gave up his life as Sylar, the hero hunter, and decided to return to normal - Well, semi-normal; he'd kept the look - the look looked _good_ on him.

"So, with this ability, you can make me see whatever I want to see, right?" he asked.

"Anything," she replied, their lips drawing closer together.

He smiled as they almost touched, "So you could turn into anyone?"

Candice drew back. "Well, yeah, I've done it before. Why? Who would you rather kiss than me?"

He thought on it for a moment. "Kirsten Dunst?"

She laughed. "I figured you as more of an Angelina Jolie type, Gray."

"She'd work, too," he laughed as Candice morphed into the actress.

"How's this?" she asked, twirling around in her new look, hands held up for him to examine her.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said appraisingly.

Before he could say another word, Angelina smiled at him with her full lips and morphed into the horribly stick thin effigy of a scantily clad Paris Hilton. Candice threw her arms around Sylar, who was leaning against the back of his plastic covered sofa.

"Like whatchya see, sexy?" she asked, planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

"I'm not into blondes," he replied, going for a kiss before she swept out of his arms.

Paris smiled. "Not even a blonde Kirsten Dunst?"

"Blonde Kirsten was hot, but she made an awesome redhead..." He told Kirsten, who stood in the middle of his living room in a brown t-shirt, jeans, flip flops, and a knit red, floppy beret. "Besides, _Elizabethtown _was like the lamest movie ever."

She laughed. "That's why the DVD isn't in its case?"

Sylar narrowed his eyes at her. "You broke into my apartment?"

"What can I say? I'm a bad girl at heart," Candice replied with a smirk, morphing back into herself. "Got any vodka in here, Sy?"

"You owe me big time," he joked, cornering her in the kitchen. "You broke into my apartment, went through my things, and now you're calling me 'Sy'? Don't expect to get off easy on this one, Wilmer. And no, I don't have any vodka."

She pouted. "Drats. I guess you're going to make it hard then?"

He examined her for a moment. "What do you want, anyway? Do you _want_ me to slice your head open or something? You've read my file, I'm sure you know I'm not like that anymore."

"You can't change who you really are," she countered, following him out of the room. Sylar grabbed her wrist as she reached out for her shoulder, spinning around so that they were face to face once more. "But that's beside the point. I want you. What do I have to do to get you?"

Sylar smiled. "Show me who you'd want to see me as if I had your ability. Don't hold back."

His jaw dropped in what was a mixture of shock and horror, and perhaps a little bit of vomit in the back of his throat has Candice dissolved into Peter Petrelli.

"_Him_?! Why _him_?" he asked.

Peter shrugged and melted back into Candice. "He's got cute hair, no thanks to you... Besides, I'm a sucker for a hero."

"My hair's not cute enough for you?" Sylar asked with mock sincerity.

"Nope," she replied, "I like something you can run your fingers through and yours just doesn't cut it."

He grinned. "Another insult, ouch! Payback time - think you could turn into Paris again? That was getting hot..."

Candice smiled maliciously before appearing before him in an entirely different guise. Perez Hilton, complete with blue hair, stood in the middle of the room.

"Paris not Perez! Good Lord, woman! Make it stop!" he shouted, eyes sealed shut and hands outstretched defensively.

Perez melted back into Candice and she closed the gap between them, kissing Sylar as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Why can't you like me for me?"

He looked at her as their lips parted and he thought he'd heard something different in her voice. Sylar fell back against the wall, staring wide eyed and horrified at Claire Bennet. _Claire Bennet, indestructible cheerleader, Bennet's daughter, 16..._

"Gyah, jail-bait!" he exclaimed "Ew, no! Go away! That's just _wrong_!"

"Come on, what's one more charge to add to the pile of murders? I bet you still wish I was on that list..." she replied, twirling a long blonde curl around her finger.

He laughed. "I'll admit I've killed people before, but there's no way in hell I'd ever want to sleep with a sixteen year old. Well, I did want to... When I was fifteen, but still... that's besides the point."

Candice/Claire rolled her eyes and resumed her old appearance, complete with short black skirt and button down t-shirt. "Fine, fine, you win. Who do I turn into next, oh great brain-slicing Sylar?"

He smirked. "I'm starting to like you for you, I guess. Think you could just _act_ like Paris this time?"


	2. Tourists

**Disclaimer: Still not making any money... all of the greenback is goin' straight to Tim Kring and co...**

**A/N: Yeah, a one-shot.. hah. I was tempted to write more - R&R, please! Reviews are to me what brains are/were to Sylar...**

**What Makes You Tick?**

**Chapter 2**

**"Tourists"**

"So, what do you do in your free time, Gabriel Sylar?" Candice asked, wrapped in the man's sheets, her brown hair falling in her face.

"Besides hang out in bars and pick up girls?" he replied with a laugh. "I'm boring. I fix watches. I help people when I can. And what about you, Candice Wilmer?"

She smiled mischievously. "I like to mess with people's heads. Mean, I know, but oh so entertaining."

He let out a chuckle as he moved the hair out of her face. "It was entertaining for me at least - I've never met a hot girl who can make herself look like other hot girls."

Candice laughed and clutched the sheets around herself. "You know you want to take my power so you can turn into hot girls and check yourself out!"

Their laughs were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Crap, my landlady - I'm late on the rent!" he exclaimed.

This was unusual for him, she must've thought he was dead or missing. He had paid his rent at least two days early every month that he'd ever lived in the apartment, and this month he just forgot.

"Eidetic memory and I still manage to forget the rent," he mused quietly as he pulled on a black t-shirt, his eyes avoiding Candice as she put on the previous night's clothes. "I don't feel like dealing with her right now, so we can go out the fire escape."

He climbed out first, holding out a hand to her as she climbed out through the window after him. It was a long way down and it was still slightly early… Why not impress her?

Sylar put an arm around Candice's waist and pulled her over the ledge, gliding quickly and contortedly towards the alley below.

"Ok, that was cool," she said with a disbelieving grin as her feet hit the pavement. "So what's there to do around this city?"

He shrugged. "How about some ice cream?"

Candice accepted the chocolate filled waffle cone from Sylar and grinned at his choice - vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles? This guy used to kill people….

"I never got to spend much time here, I still don't," she told him, catching a drip of ice cream in her mouth before it ran down her hand. "I'm always doing something for someone while I'm here, so I've never gotten to sight see."

"And what about me? Am I another mission?" Sylar asked, taking another bite off of his plastic spoon.

She smiled. "I thought you were, maybe. They just wanted me to meet you, get to know you - You know, find out if eating brains still turns you on and all."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Who ever said I ate brains, anyway?"

"You didn't?" Candice asked.

Sylar grinned back at her. "That's still my little secret. But no, killing doesn't "turn me on", it never did. There was never a thrill in it for me - I did it because I thought I had to, because those people didn't deserve what they'd been given, ya know?" he tried to explain, knowing that all of the explaining in the world would never be able to justify what he'd done.

"Do _I_ turn you on?" Candice shot at him unexpectedly.

He laughed. "You got me into bed on the first date, which, might I add, wasn't even a real date, so I don't think I can say 'no' to that one. Come on, we can grab a cab."

"This is the Queensboro Bridge," he told her as they traveled over the bay. He pointed his finger out the window at a tall building, and said with the enthusiasm of a five year old, "There's the Chrysler Building."

Candice smiled. "You love it here, don't you?"

"No, but I know this city like the back of my hand. I guess it just tends to grow on you after a while." Sylar replied. "Drop us off at Times Square, ok?"

"Yes of course," the man (who had introduced himself as Ranjit) told them, taking the proper route.

Sylar and Candice stepped out of the cab and paid their driver, taking in the sight that was Times Square. The flashing signs, the people milling about, the honking horns… It was almost a total sensory overload for the girl who had seen nothing more exciting in New York than Kirby Plaza!

"You ok?" Sylar asked, concerned at the disbelieving look on her face.

"I'm fine. I'm trying to decide whether I love it or hate it. It's so… busy. In one sense it's beautiful - Society and technology all colliding in this square, and on the other hand, I can't help but be repulsed by the amount of advertising!" Candice replied, a smile spreading across her face.

He laughed. "This is going to sound crazy, but I've kind of always wanted to kiss someone in Times Square," he told her suddenly.

Candice narrowed her eyes at him. "This was all a ploy to get another kiss out of me, right?"

"No, I didn't mean," he began. "I'm sorry. Stupid idea, I know. That was just a side note, though - I really did think you should see this place,"

Lost in his apologies he almost didn't shut up when Candice kissed him, right there, in the middle of Times Square with what felt like millions of eyes watching them. He kissed her back, forgetting about his self consciousness, and enjoyed the moment. And then he realized, that there _weren't_ millions of eyes watching - in fact, there weren't any. And the flashing lights? All off.

"Did you…?" he asked, watching as the people suddenly melded back into view and the lights began flashing once more. "I'm getting more and more tempted by the minute. Come on, let's grab some pizza."

A few moments later they began their random roaming of the city with mammoth folded pieces of steaming hot Brooklyn style pizza.

"So, when you said you were getting tempted," Candice began. "Did you mean, 'tempted to slice your head open and steal your power', or was it a sexual thing?"

Sylar stopped for a second as the cheese strung out from his pizza, burning his lip. He removed the offending string and swallowed before replying. "This is part of your mission, huh? Asking me questions every two seconds? I mean, I don't mind… Well, I do, you're kind of using me…"

"Using you for _what_?" Candice replied. "Research? Hardly. They just want to make sure you're not dangerous anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "And if I was? Do you think I'd flat out tell you if I was still a murderous, raving, lunatic? I can tell you I'm not all I want and all you care to listen to, but you're still going to have bosses who are going to doubt that. And as for the tempting… you do the math."

Night had fallen by the time that they returned to Sylar's brownstone in Queens. They risked entering through the front door, ignoring Greta the landlady's cries of, "You owe me your rent, Gabriel!" and climbing the steps.

"I guess this is where my mission ends," Candice told him as she stopped in the doorway.

Sylar's eyebrows drew together as he regarded her standing there with her arm leaned against the wooden doorframe. "That's it, then? You spend a day and a half gathering information about me and then you disappear? That's it?"

"I told you," she replied. "You're just supposed to be an assignment - what happened last night probably shouldn't have. I could have gotten into some serious trouble with that. I guess I'll see you around."

"Wait," he said, rushing to the door and blocking her path in the hallway. "People say 'see you around' to each other all the time and I know that it's not what they mean. Am I ever going to see you again?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "For both of our sakes? Probably not. I mean, I like you, I really do, and I shouldn't. Not just because you're an assignment, but because I know what you _were_. I know what you've done, I've seen the damage first hand."

"I've changed," he told her, heading back to the doorway. "But like I said before - I can tell you that all day and you and your masters can still think that I'm just putting on an act and pretending to be the good guy. I guess it's just up to you to believe what you want to. See ya around." he replied before pulling the door shut behind himself.


	3. Just the Girl

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters I happen to write about. I'm broke. :P Heroes and Characters © NBC and Tim Kring.**

**A/N: Ok, so here's chapter 3 - a bit shorter and Sylar-centric. Nothing exciting here, but it's kind of cute :P R&R, s.v.p. (s'il vous plaît!)**

**Chapter 3**

**"Just the Girl"**

"I'm telling you, Peter, she's the girl I've been looking for." Sylar said, taking a sip of a beer.

Peter Petrelli sat next to him, drinking his own from the bottle. "Gabe, she's an illusionist - what makes you think she even really _looks_ like that? She could be enormous!"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not always about looks, ok, and besides, if she was huge, don't you think it'd be kind of _obvious_?"

Peter laughed. "She's with you, isn't she? She's either got to be huge, ugly, or seriously messed up in the head, especially if she knows how you used to be."

"You're not helping," Sylar shot back, finishing off the beer and watching as a group of tipsy girls all pointed at Peter and began giggling. "I don't even know how to find her now. Unless Bennet could tell me…."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Please, just get over her. She obviously doesn't want to be found."

He had an idea! "Hey, Pete, you've got Molly's power…. Why can't you just look her up for me?"

"Hah, no. Sorry, just no. I'm not condoning this, Gabe. Look, check those ones out - I can tell them I'm married and they'll all go straight for you." he told him.

"Yeah, right, like any of them would giggle over _me_. Apparently you've never seen any old pictures of me. I was the biggest geek on the face of the earth." he replied. "Nope, I think it's time to call it a night. I guess I'll see you around, Pete."

And Sylar stood up and crossed the bar, putting on his jacket as he made his way through the throngs of people. And that's when he remembered his latest job offer….

**The Next Evening**

"Thanks for coming, Gabriel," Mohinder said, welcoming him into his apartment. "There's some pizza in the fridge, and I take it you can figure out how to work the DVD player?"

Sylar smiled, a smile that once seemed friendly to Mohinder, and then frightening, but now gave him a sense of comfort. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll make sure Molly finishes her homework, too."

He laughed. "You shouldn't have to worry about that - she won't take her nose out of those books. See you in a few hours, then?"

"I'll be here." he replied, flopping onto the sofa.

Sylar flicked on the TV without bothering to look for the remote and turned it onto the evening news. The reporter was halfway through a report about a fire that had occurred that afternoon, where every single one of the building's occupants had survived.

"_Congressman Nathan Petrelli's younger brother, Peter, was on hand to bear witness to the horrific sight_," the reporter said.

_"Yeah, I was just in the area and I saw what was going on. I'm a registered nurse, so I came over to help. I'm glad I could and that everyone is all right,"_ Peter told a man holding a microphone as the firefighters battled the blaze in the background.

"Gabriel!" Molly exclaimed, tackling him in a hug. "Guess what? I got all A's on my report card! My teacher liked my report about watches, too!"

Sylar laughed. "Did she now? Just wait until you have to do one about brains - you'll get the highest grade ever - an A++++++++!"

She turned solemn for a moment.

"You know I'm sorry about that, right? I mean, I know I've said it like, a million bajillion times before, but I'm really, really, _really_ sorry." he told her in the comforting voice that one uses on a child.

Molly nodded. "I know. I mean, I know that it can't bring them back, but I forgive you. You're different now. You're not the Boogieman anymore."

"Hey, want some pizza?" he asked, getting up to grab some food. "Or, what's this? It looks like there's ice cream in there!"

"Ooh! Ice cream? I want ice cream!" Molly enthused, running into the kitchen. "Can I have sprinkles, too?"

"Sure, all the sprinkles you want, Molly," he answered with a smile as he grabbed two bowls.

Sylar scooped out the ice cream - more vanilla - and covered each dish with little rainbow sprinkles and chocolate syrup and sat down at the table.

"So," he said. "I've got something I need your help with, Molly."

The girl raised an eyebrow at him. "You need me to find someone for you, don't you? It's not someone _bad_ is it? You're not going to _kill_ anyone are you?"

He laughed as he took another bite. "No, it's nothing like that. I need to find my friend. She didn't tell me how to get in touch with her, and I needed to ask her something. I tried to paint her, but that one's not working so well anymore."

"Why not?" Molly asked.

Sylar shrugged. "I'm not sure. I keep painting random things, like the other day I painted Peter and I at a bar, and sure enough, he called that afternoon! Oh, and I painted an apartment fire and a car accident the other day. I just can't seem to paint what I really want to. Maybe I'm just trying to hard."

"Probably. What's her name?" she inquired.

"Candice, Candice Wilmer." he told her, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Molly grabbed her atlas and a thumbtack and opened to a page. "She's here, in New York. It looks like she's at that building in Kirby Plaza."

"Well then, that's a _very_ good start - thank you!" Sylar replied.


End file.
